


An Alternative Arrangement, or, Rory's Asshole Girlfriends Go On a Date

by PoeticallyIrritating



Series: Rory's Asshole Girlfriends [2]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/F, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, fem!jess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticallyIrritating/pseuds/PoeticallyIrritating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look, I think it’s a logical avenue to explore! While our current arrangement does fall under one of the most common and successful polyamorous relationship models, I think we would be remiss not to consider other options!” She’s pacing. This is a <em>Paris thing.</em> Jess has a list of them saved in a notebook, in case she ever feels like writing a memoir about her life for the wide-eyed consumption of the monogamous heterosexual public.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Alternative Arrangement, or, Rory's Asshole Girlfriends Go On a Date

**Author's Note:**

> Born out of several conversations with cywlyxn and notstarling on tumblr.

Jess rakes her fingers through her hair. “Paris…”

“Look, I think it’s a logical avenue to explore! While our current arrangement does fall under one of the most common and successful polyamorous relationship models, I think we would be remiss not to consider other options!” She’s pacing. This is a _Paris thing._ Jess has a list of them saved in a notebook, in case she ever feels like writing a memoir about her life for the wide-eyed consumption of the monogamous heterosexual public.

“So, what—you want to go on a date.”

“Well, it does seem like the rational way to resolve this.”

“Resolve what?”

Paris’s hand flies up and nearly knocks over her coffee mug. “Don’t you think the tension between us is obvious? We’re Spike and Angel, Jess, there’s no denying it!”

“We’re not enemies,” Jess points out. She’s sprawled on the couch, spinning a ring around her middle finger. “Or vampires.”

“Aren’t we?” Paris halts in her progress across the floor. “Rival suitors, vying for a lady’s hand?”

“We’re not _vying._ She’s got two hands.” Her eyebrows snap upward. “Can I have her right one? It’s my favorite.”

Paris huffs her frustration. “While I recognize that that was in all likelihood a crude joke, I will not be drawn into a discussion of your sex life with Rory.” She eyes Jess. “You honestly don’t think there’s _any_ sexual tension between us?”

“Didn’t say that. I’ve just never wanted to buy you flowers.”

“You buy Rory flowers?”

“Nah. But I’ve _thought_ about it.”

“Wait, you’ve _never_ bought her flowers? In a year and a half?”

Jess smirks. “I’m more of a jewelry kind of girl.”

“Is _that_ where the earrings came from? Mariano, you sly bastard.” Paris’ eyebrows raise in what might—if you squint—be approval.

“All right, let’s get this straight. Do want to date me or have sex with me?”

Paris considers. “I want to explore our compatibility both romantically and physically.”

“In that order?”

“That seems to be the traditional pattern. Wining and dining prospective sexual partners, if you will. However, we _have_ strayed very far off the beaten path already.”

Jess shrugs. Pats the spot beside her on the couch. “Well come on, Geller, don’t leave me hanging.”

“Oh. Now?” Paris’ eyes dart back and forth between Jess’ face and her hand on the empty space on the couch.

“I mean, we can wait.” She rests her arm along the back of the couch. “Rory need to sign a consent form or something?”

“Oh, I already discussed this exact eventuality with Rory. She’s open to alternative configurations.”

“You did.” Jess’ eyes roll back. “Then why the hesitation, Geller? Scared?”

“Absolutely not.” She whips around in standard Paris fashion, all force and jerky movements, and slides into Jess’ lap. There’s a split second of opportunity—Jess startled, mouth open—and Paris takes it and kisses her, hard, pressing against the back of the couch. Jess isn’t used to being pressed against much of anything, and she fights back, if this is a fight; she grips Paris around the waist and breaks away from the lip-lock to mouth the hollow of Paris’ throat.

Paris groans, fingers tightening around Jess’ shoulders. “I think we’ve—uh—determined—sexual compatibility,” she says.

Jess draws back and looks up at her. “Do you want me to _stop?”_ she asks, and Paris lets out a long-suffering sigh. _“Continue,_ if you honestly can’t contain yourself,”she says. “It’s no skin off my back, Casanova.”

The next thing out of her mouth is less words and more, well, _moan._ Jess’ fingers play at buttons on her shirt, but she pulls back. She’s flushed, pink painting her cheeks. “Well,” she says. “I’m thinking Italian food.”

“Italian?” Jess leans in again, smirks into her mouth.

Paris untangles herself. “Italian. I recognize the cliché of Italian food for a date, but there’s something to be said for resorting to romantic tropes! And I like to think that the traditionalism of the setting might help strike a balance with the unconventionality of the activity.”

“Geller. I don’t care.”

 -

There’s a candle on the table. Jess flicks her fingers through the flame, letting the heat grow until it feels like her fingerprints are going to burn off. Paris raises her eyebrows.

“So, tell me about your day.” Paris sips her sparkling water and then steeples her fingers together.

“The hell are you doing with your hands, Mr. Burns?” Jess leans back in her chair.

“Look, Jess, I recognize that this is mostly a charade, but I’d appreciate a little bit of engaging.”

Jess grunts.

Paris props her menu in front of her. Every so often, an irritated huff can be heard coming from behind it.

The waiter comes over and visibly wilts under Paris’ interrogation about wild-caught seafood and organic greens, and comes out of the interaction with an order of the salmon salad and probably an anxiety disorder. Jess’ smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, but fades to a scowl when the waiter turns to her.

“A _cheeseburger?”_ Paris snaps, when Jess has finished her order. It’s the kind of thing to be hissed across the table, but Paris has never been much of a whisperer.

“I like cheeseburgers,” Jess says. She leans back farther in her chair until it’s balancing on two legs.

“This is a _five-star restaurant,”_ Paris snarls, loudly enough that a white-haired woman turns around in her seat to look at the commotion.

“It was on the menu. People are staring.”

“Maybe because you’re an _imbecile.”_

Jess knocks back half her water glass in one go, and mutters something like “get me out of here” in an undertone. Paris lets out a sound oddly close to a growl.

The food arrives just in time to prevent a physical altercation. Jess eats her burger in four bites, and relishes in the look on Paris’ face as she sucks the grease from each finger.

“Jess—”

“What, that get you hot, Geller?”

Paris’ eyes look like they might pop out of her head, but she says nothing, instead picking pink-cheeked at her salad.

Jess’ chuckle is low and knowing. “I mean, I was just messin’ with you, but apparently…” She winks. “I’ll lick food off my fingers for you anytime, princess.”

Paris chokes. She clears her throat, gets the food down, before speaking. “Princess? Do I really deserve that?”

“You’re an adult with glitter in your lip gloss.”

Paris stares hard at Jess. Finally: “I’ll accept that.”

When the waiter returns, Paris orders them both lava cakes before Jess can get a word in. Jess raises her eyebrows at Paris from across the table. “You ever order for Rory?”

 _“Rory_ is capable of eating at a restaurant with cloth napkins without humiliating me.”

“You’re humiliated.” Paris’ nod is unconvincing. “Geller, come on, let’s get out of here. I’m not having a good time, you’re not having a good time… Let’s walk.”

“We just ordered dessert,” Paris reminds her. “You promised me one date, and I expect you to see it through.

Jess settles back into her seat with a groan. “I was coerced.”

“I _convinced_ you, I did not coerce you.”

“You straddled me on the couch. Coercion if I’ve ever seen it.”

“I was presenting an argument.”

“You were trading sex to get what you wanted.”

Paris rolls her eyes. “Well, first of all, I’ve always held that the trade or sale of sexual favors between consenting adults is perfectly ethical. And second, that was _not_ sex.”

“No, because you started talking about calzones or some shit.”

“You’re suggesting it could have been?” Paris eyes the remains of Jess’ dessert. “Interesting.”

“Not really.”

Paris doesn’t seem to hear her. “I mean, as fascinated as I am by the division between sexual and romantic attraction, I never considered a relationship with sexual but not romantic elements that was still predicated on mutual respect.”

Jess chokes on her cake. “Hey, hey, slow down, there.”

“I’m brainstorming, Mariano, shut your trap.” She taps her fingers on the edge of her wine glass, more animated than she’s been the entire evening. “Now, it’s clear that our approaches to romance are largely incompatible. You’ve been miserable all evening, and I would definitely not have appreciated whatever greasy backwater burger joint you no doubt have a habit of taking Rory to. What’s interesting is that this is likely exactly why our current arrangement works so well, and would make such a compelling case for polyamory as a way of life.” She pauses for a moment, staring into space, probably imagining her face on the cover of a book titled _The Case for Polyamory: How I, My Girlfriend, and My Girlfriend’s Other Girlfriend Reimagined the American Family._ “You provide Rory with certain qualities, and I provide her with others. We’re both significant relationships, and she doesn’t have to simply put up with our shortcomings. And if either of us were to meet someone else, it wouldn’t mean the end of a relationship, simply the beginning of a new one.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Anyway, the very things that make us perfect romantic partners for Rory render us completely incompatible with each other.” She pops a cough drop; she’s been getting a cold. “However,” she says, slightly muffled having to speak around the lozenge, “our sexual chemistry is undeniable.”

There’s nothing left in Jess’ mouth to choke on. She chokes anyway.

“I’m just pointing out that it might be reasonable to explore the sexual aspects of our relationship, despite the utter disaster that this date turned into.”

“ _Utter?_ I think I’m a little offended.”

“Please, Jess, it was the Hindenburg.”

“Whatever.” She smirks. “So you think I’m hot.”

Paris scoffs. “Don’t get cocky, Mariano. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

-

Paris’ phone rings as they reach the parking lot. “Rory,” she reports, and puts it on speaker.

“How was it?” She’s speaking with the voice of an anxious mother.

“I barely restrained myself from throttling her,” says Paris. “I don’t know how you survive.”

“Oh.” She sounds small.

“It was a long shot,” Jess says.

Paris consoles, “There’s no need to be disappointed. We’re both very comfortable with the outcome. However—”

“Our Lady of Compartmentalization here still wants to fuck me, so we’re heading back to my place.”

“Despite our failed romantic endeavor, our sexual chemistry is remarkable,” Paris reports.

“Oh, jeez,” says Rory.

 


End file.
